


Love, laughter and knee-high cat socks

by animegaypanic



Series: Omihina [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Figurative Language, M/M, Metaphors, Sakusa Kiyoomi-centric, its not even funny at this point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:28:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26474185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/animegaypanic/pseuds/animegaypanic
Summary: "He’s in the middle of trying to figure out who will get his five boxes of sunscreen when his tall, no nonsense boyfriend walks out in knee-high cat eared socks."...Or a cute, random, unimportant, domestic day that happens to mean everything to Sakusa cause sometimes memories are all you have left
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou & Sakusa Kiyoomi, Hinata Shouyou/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Series: Omihina [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1963654
Comments: 20
Kudos: 73





	Love, laughter and knee-high cat socks

**Author's Note:**

> Omihina is like my OTP honestly so I had a lot of fun writing this. The idea of Sakusa in cat socks just kind of planted itself into my brain and well things happened from there on out
> 
> I want to thank all the people that read parts of this fic prior to the final draft. Your reactions and feedback gave me life. I especially want to thank my beta reader [@tonobread](https://twitter.com/tonobread) for indulging my ideas and I'm sorry for what I put you through.
> 
> Without further adieu, I hope you enjoy!!!

“Tadaima.”

A door opens and the view of a small entryway appears. Next to the door’s entrance, there’s a small shoe rack, a worn-out pair already finding home in its usual spot. On the floor in front of the door, there’s a small rug with an image of two cats; one a tabby orange and the other a calico black.

“Okaeri!”

Sakusa smiles as he walks through the doorway, hearing the lively voice of his boyfriend. He takes his shoes off and is about to walk to the living room when he feels something or _someone_ , run into him. 

“Oomph!” Sakusa takes a step back to look down at his adorable orange sun. Hinata looks up at him shyly, “Sorry” he says bashfully completely not sorry. The brunette takes this chance to see what the ginger is wearing and notices a comfy, lemon curd yellow sweater with sleeves too long, black shorts that should be illegal, and looks downwards to….knee-high wool socks?

“Oh!” The remark brings Sakusa out of his thoughts and raises his gaze to meet Hinata’s. “These?” Hinata looks down at his legs then back at Sakusa, eyes filled with childish glee. “I was foot sliding!” He does a small hop, slipping a little bit on the wood floors. Sakusa rushes to grab him, “Foot sliding?” He looks at Hinata, confusion written all over his face. 

Hinata is staring at him, his expression going from excited to blank then horrified in just three seconds. “Wait….do you not know what foot sliding is?” He said slowly. “Ummmmm, no?” Sakusa says perplexed as to why Hinata looks like he just told him Santa doesn’t exist. They stand there for about thirty seconds before Hinata blurts out, “Did you not have a childhood?” He gasps and covers his mouth. “I didn’t mean to say that! I’m so sorry Omi-san! I mean of course you had a childhood, you had to grow up somehow right? I’ve met your family so you obviously came from somewhere. I bet it was a lovely childhood. Your family is so nice. Oh god, what if your parents are offended now?” Sakusa tunes out his boyfriend's rambling and gives him a chaste kiss on the lips. 

Hinata stops abruptly, looking like a deer caught in headlights, “Ack! Warn me first Omi-San! Kissing me out of the blue like that, have you no manners?” he whines, a lovely blush blossoming on his cheeks. 

The ginger leans forwards, placing his forehead against the brunette’s chest. Sunset curls tickle Sakusa’s chin. He revels in their evident size difference and moves to draw the other in closer. Before he can do that, the shorter man suddenly stands up straight looking into the distance, “Ah-hah! I know, I’ll just teach you!” bringing his fist down into his open palm. Sakusa blinks at him, “Teach me what exactly?”’ Hinata brings his attention back to Sakusa and beams a smile that can rival the sun right at him. Sakusa has a sudden urge to close his eyes or put on sunglasses at least. His thoughts are interrupted as the little sun answers his question, “I’m going to teach you how to foot slide of course!”

_____________

  
  


“No no no, those won’t work. Those are shitty socks. You need better ones so you can go _skkkkwhoosh_ and not _shwhump flump_ you know?” All Hinata gets in response as he stares expectantly at his aloof boyfriend is a slow blink. “What…..what do you mean shitty socks?” 

Sakusa looks down at his low cut compression socks and feels offended on their behalf. They show off his legs nicely and he’s wearing his favorite shorts to match. He’s about to go on a rant on why his compression socks are amazing and are absolutely a godsend and scold his boyfriend for not appreciating the amazingness that is compression socks, but there’s a time and place for scolding your boyfriend into appreciating clothing and he _can_ read a room—er hallway. Instead, he opts to glare at the younger one. 

Hinata notices this and stiffens slightly, nervously laughing, _oh….I’m in danger._ “I-I didn’t mean that your socks are shi-aah heh, well that is what I meant b-but for foot sliding n-not in general,” Hinata stammers, slowly backing away in case his boyfriend’s strange attachment to compression socks decides to manifest into something ugly.

He shudders as he remembers the last incident; death via tickle torture is not how he would like to go thank you very much. Sakusa takes this chance to enter their shared bedroom, deciding that maybe his panicky boyfriend was right. Not knowing this, Hinata prepares his will, wholly believing he is about to die and all because he accidentally insulted low cut compression socks. 

He’s in the middle of trying to figure out who will get his five boxes of sunscreen when his tall, no-nonsense boyfriend walks out in knee-high cat-eared socks. 

Every thought before that moment ceases to exist leaving nothing but _Sakusa in knee-high cat socks. Sakusa in knee-high cat socks with cat ears. Sakusa in cat socks with knee-high boots, cat ears, and a virgin killer sweater. Sakusa in noth-nope nuh uh nope not going there. Not the time, not the time. I am calm. My grumpy, tsundere of a boyfriend is in cat socks with little ear extensions, I think I can die in peace._

As  Hinata.exc  proceeds to malfunction, Sakusa stands nervously. Fidgeting with his hands, looking off to the side, “Do yo—d-does it look weird? Do you not like it?” The nervousness in Sakusa’s voice snaps Hinata out of his trance and his eyes widen in realization. “NO!” He winces, “Ah I mean no, you look amazing! So amazing that I—uh had some not so kid-friendly thoughts if you know what I mean heh.” At this reveal the taller man gives his boyfriend a flat stare. “Don’t look at me like that! I’m sorry I find you so handsome and absolutely irresistible,” exclaims said boyfriend, hands fluttering and flapping about.

Sakusa startles at the other’s blunt confession, his once closed mouth now sits opened, and his eyes widen slightly while his cheeks take on a rosy hue. 

Suddenly, Hinata’s face lights up like a light bulb went off. He looks upwards with a thoughtful look, “Oh! You’re gonna love this Omi-san!” He blows a kiss toward the brunette and winks.

Sakusa raises an eyebrow at this seemingly random course of events and watches as the short ginger raises his pointer finger, “One: I find the small smile you have when you eat umeboshi adorable and consider it a national treasure.” Realization dawns on Sakusa and his eyes widen slightly.

Raising a second finger, Hinata continues, “Two: I love how you like to hum and do a little dance when you’re brushing your teeth, it makes me look forward to waking up.” Sakusa starts to blush heavily, partly—mostly—from embarrassment. His lover raises his ring finger, “Three: The way you actually smack melons when buying them never fails to make me laugh and it’s a highlight of grocery shopping with you.” 

The melon smacker covers his face with his hands, “That’s the only reliable way to tell if it’s good!” The younger spares him an exasperated look and raises his pinky, “Four: I find your inability to cook decently endearing because I get to see the look on your face as you eat my cooking every single day and I fall more in love.” Sakusa can’t even feel slightly offended at that because of the look of pure adoration he sees when Hinata says that is worth more than his pride. 

Sakusa blanches slightly as he sees the smaller raise his thumb to hold up a number five. His mind runs a million miles a minute, trying to figure out any embarrassingly endearing acts he committed.

“Five: I love how you brighten up my day. I know I’m constantly called the sun or sunshine incarnate but for me, you are my sun, my light, and I love you wholly for that.”

Hinata gets a very passionate and burning gaze as he says that, almost as if he wants to burn that thought right into the other’s very soul. He reminds Sakusa of a red giant star. Right before it fades, it shines all the more, hoping to leave a lasting impression. 

“I-wh-weren’t we uh, weren’t we um, the thingy, foot thing. Uh, foot….foot sliding!” Sakusa winces as he completely forgets how to talk, feeling very warm and soft from that emotional moment. At the mention of foot sliding Hinata brightens, mouth stretching into a wide smile. 

“That’s right! I can’t believe I got sidetracked! I blame you Omi-san, you make it so easy for me to love you!” Sakusa blushes for the nth time, surprisingly easy to fluster. “Let’s just start already. I even put on the socks you bought me.” 

Hinata looks down at the other’s feet, smiling as he remembers why he bought them. “Well, I like cats and I like you. And well, socks are always good so I bought them for you! Everything I love all in one!” 

Sakusa is very close to pulling Hinata into a make-out session just so he stops the constant love confessions. It’s not that he hates them, he’s just pretty sure his heart will burst if it keeps happening. Or maybe Sakusa just wants to kiss the daylights out of the small ginger. 

“F-foot sliding, Sho!” 

____________

“Bwahahaha! Oh no! Omi-san, I— _wheeze_ —I’m so sorry haha! I— _gasp_ —wh-why didn’t— _wheeze_ —you stop bef—before you—bwahahaha!” The man in question is currently looking in disdain as his boyfriend slumps against the wall, cackling like a hyena. He has a red splotch roughly the size of his palm on his forehead, placed perfectly next to his two moles. 

The man frowns as he remembers what had transpired before this moment.

.

.

.

_“Yosha!” Hinata pumps a fist into the air. “Your first intro lesson to foot sliding! It’s really easy Omi-san! I swear!”_

_Sakusa eyes him, “First? How many more are there?”_

_Hinata drops his fist and fidgets with his fingers, “Well, I thought maybe we could do something like this every once in awhile…” He finishes with classic puppy dog eyes._

_Wishing he was immune to sunshine and rainbows Sakusa agrees, “I…..guess….I wouldn’t mind if we did things like this….every now and then.”_

_“Great! Now on to today’s activity!” the other exclaims in joy._

_He moves to the end of the hall, lazily sliding as he does, and turns to face_ _Sakusa who is waiting on the other end._

_“Foot sliding is basically like skating with socks! To start you go schwoop schwoop and when you get enough momentum you go shwooosh!” The energetic ginger demonstrates by moving similarly to walking on rollerskates. He speeds up slowly and when he’s around halfway through the hall, he pushes off one foot, plants the other, and glides across their wood floors._

_Sakusa thanks whatever gods there are for giving him the ability to understand the energetic-naturally gifted at physical activities-sound using only-language because he actually understood what Hinata was saying. Or maybe the demonstration was all he needed and he definitely didn’t just tune out Hinata as he was being a living onomatopoeia. Definitely not that, Sakusa would never do that to his love._

_The smaller slides his way towards Sakusa and stops right in front of him, shining a bright smile, “Your turn, Omi-san!”_

_He walks to the other side and starts to mimic the motions. At the halfway mark, Sakusa pushes off his right foot and brings his feet into a skateboarding stance to slide. He wobbles a bit and by the time he reaches the end he stumbles out of it, hands reaching out to stabilize against the wall._

_Despite the fact that Sakusa was like Bambi at the beginning of the movie—minus the whole traumatization from witnessing a murder—Hinata was impatient and wanted to do fun things with his boyfriend who would rarely do anything like this. Which is how they ended up sliding—tripping and stumbling—throughout the halls like wild, dumb, giggling Bambies._

_Though Sakusa would never admit it, he was having fun. A lot of fun. And maybe it was the endorphins he felt from doing this silly activity or maybe it was the because of the person beside him, laughing so carefree, that he completely overlooked the fact that the hallway they currently raced down ended in a sharp turn. Nor does he realize that he’s about to run headfirst into the wall. The inevitable happens and Sakusa gets a lovely close up of the wall with a loud smack._

.

.

.

“This is a very shitty first lesson,” he deadpans. 

“Omi-san! You don’t mean that do you?”

“The stop sign on my forehead says otherwise,” Sakusa states, pointing towards the bruising red mark. 

“It’s not _that_ big,” the ginger defends.

He snorts seeing the other’s ‘are you fucking kidding me’ expression. “You can use foundation! You’d be like one of those k-pop idols! You already look like one.”

The taller holds up a hand, “First off, I’d like you to run into a wall and see how much you like—“

“Actually, I’ve had to deal with being spiked in the face so I say I win on that matter,” Hinata states matter of factly.

“Yeah yeah, you sucked at receiving in high school,” comments Sakusa, dismissively waving his hand and pointedly ignoring the squawk of indignation from the other. He clears his throat, “To continue what I was saying before I was rudely interrupted. Running into a wall is not fun. Having a bruising clown nose on your forehead isn’t fun. _And_ just because I have a skincare routine does not mean I wear make-up.” 

“Awwww, Omi-san, I’m sorry. Do you want me to kiss your bruise better?” 

Sakusa gives Hinata a clear look of ‘does it look like kissing would make it feel better?’ Hinata bets his favorite volleyball that Sakusa wouldn’t actually mind a kiss at this very moment. He gets another, more interesting, and very Hinata-like idea. 

“Okay, okay. To make it up to you, how about a bet? If you win we can buy that steamer you’re always eyeing at the store.” At this, Sakusa lights up. His eyes go wide and hopeful, and Hinata can’t help but laugh. “I feel like I should be jealous of the steamer,” he says, shaking his head. Sakusa stammers, “I-It’s a steamer! Do you know how easy cleaning would be with one! We could—“ he cuts off quickly, gaining Hinata’s curiosity. “Is something the—“

“A roomba.” Hinata blinks, mouth still open to form his next syllable. “A roo—huh?” 

Sakusa looks at him seriously, “If I win, we get a steamer and a roomba.” The shorter looks at him stupefied, “Do we—do we even have money to buy both?” The brunette nods earnestly and Hinata is once again amused by his boyfriend’s eagerness, “I have money set aside specifically for a roomba.” 

“You set money……money” Hinata trails off, staring blankly at Sakusa. The look breaks as amusement floods through, “Of course you set money aside for a roomba,” he chuckles. “Okay, Omi-san. If you win, we get the steamer _and_ a roomba,” explains Hinata as he sticks his hand out.

The brunette looks warily at the other’s hand, “And if you win?” 

The ginger-haired man grins, “If I win, you have to dress up like a k-pop idol.” 

Sakusa sputters, “W-what? You want me to do what?”

“You heard me. You already have the wardrobe,” Hinata says, grin never leaving his face. “I’m not changing the deal either,” he adds, hand still outstretched. 

Sakusa stands there quietly thinking. He’s not really against the idea and it's only _if_ he loses. He _does also_ have a wardrobe that is eerily similar to many k-pop idols and he doesn’t mind dressing up for Hinata. 

With a small nod, he grabs the other’s hand, “Deal.”

________

They line up at the end of the hall, each envisioning their respective victory. To win they have to slide down the long hall, make a left passed their shared bedroom, turn right into their kitchen, circle around the kitchen island three times, and pass their potted succulent that sits at the threshold of their living. 

Hinata sets his phone down, a timer of fifteen seconds set and they get into their starting positions, whatever that would be for a foot sliding race. The timer goes off and they shoot off.

As they make their way down the hall, they slip and stumble, leaning into each other. Light, friendly shoves exchanged, they round the corner with Hinata in the lead. Pumping his arms, and using his dumb long legs, Sakusa races to catch up as they turn into their kitchen. It’s a game of cat and mouse as they circle the island. One, two, three, and Sakusa manages to pull ahead in the end and makes a beeline towards the living room, Hinata hot on his trail. It’s the longest meter stretch ever and at this point, they’re neck and neck. With his strong want for a roomba, Sakusa pulls ahead by a fraction of a second, and reaches the plant with a small whoop, and _doesn’t stop_ even though he’s approaching the very trip-able carpet. 

As expected, what happens next is this. Sakusa trips.

As Sakusa trips, he flails his arms out like any normal person would if they were about to faceplant. Whilst one is flailing, one tends to try to grab onto _anything_ they can to stop from falling. This is exactly what Sakusa does. 

Unfortunately for Hinata, he was within Sakusa’s stupidly long arm reach and became said object for attempted stabilization. 

Note that humans make for _very poor_ objects of stabilization when one is falling.

Instead of using the inhuman reflexes he acquired as an Olympic athlete, said athlete pathetically gets caught off guard and follows his boyfriend on a fun trip. If a fun trip included face planting onto the floor, a carpeted floor if it’s any consolation. 

Slowly, Sakusa’s eyes widened. He briefly has his _‘Oh shit_ ’ moment when he realizes that they are about to fall face first onto the floor. He has a millisecond to make a decision and act. 

Using his momentum and core muscles, the brunette twists himself so he’s falling back first and pulls on the arm still in his grasp, bringing the small ginger towards his chest. They both land with a dull thud, each grateful for the soft carpet they bought on a whim when their apartment had not been lived in yet and lacked the feeling of home.

They lay there for a second in shock before Hinata pushes off Sakusa’s toned chest and settles himself into a straddling position. Both feel no qualms about their new predicament. 

Hinata leans forward, bringing their faces dangerously close together. He stares at the other intensely for a couple of seconds before he lets out a short burst of giggles. They sound as light as bubbles to Sakusa. “Why didn’t you— _giggle_ —stop, you already won,” Hinata asks, pushing their noses together with a light _boop_. 

Sakusa frowns—pouts—a little and turns his head, looking off to the side, “I—I might have forgotten about the carpet…...momentarily….” There’s a short pause before Hinata giggles again, and Sakusa swears he can feel the fondness in his heart grow tenfold. _This must be what the Grinch felt like._

Suddenly he feels a soft pressure on his cheek. He slides his gaze towards the man on top of him and sees one delicately calloused finger poised to poke his cheek, again. Turning his attention to the other’s face, he notices the adorably puffed cheeks and willingly lets a goofy smile show onto his face. 

“So. You. Just. Forgot?” Each word is emphasized with a soft poke, and Hinata’s mouth slowly broadens into a dazzling smile after each one.

Sakusa makes no move to stop his lover’s shenanigans, continuing to smile back like an idiot in love much to Hinata’s amusement. “Ah, well….I might’ve been a little too excited to get the roomba to remember...heh.” 

The smaller chuckles at that, and leans his head down, having their foreheads touch, and places a chaste kiss on the other’s lips. “You’re so silly Omi-san, but maybe that’s why I love you so much.”

He sits up straight and looks down towards Sakusa. “So never change, ‘kay?” The man gives him a soft, closed-lipped smile. His eyes, crinkling upwards into crescent moons, convey everything he’s yet to say and everything he doesn’t have to. When Sakusa notices this, he’s left breathless. 

The moment seems almost too perfect. Almost like a picture-perfect scene from a movie. His world slows down and he takes it all in, devouring every detail. Looking closely, he cherishes the man before him. 

The lighting, shining perfectly onto the other, making him glow. Still, slightly tanned skin glistens iridescently, so perfectly. That bright, unruly ginger hair almost seems alive, like a living flame in the atmosphere. 

Those dotted freckles, signs of blessings from the sun. Those eyes that seem to be as deep as ancient wells, a stunning shade of warm, hazel brown. They always seem to search for his own deep charcoal orbs, crinkling at the corners when their gazes meet. And that smile, as wide as the Grand Canyon and as bright as Sirius A, never fails to leave him breathless. He seems so impossible.

In that single moment, Sakusa knows, deep down, that this is where he’s supposed to be. In the presence of someone otherworldly. 

“You’re an angel,” he breathes in awe. _My angel._

Hinata gives him a quizzical look. “Really?” He places his forefinger on his chin. His expression morphs into one of contemplation, “I always thought I would be like a crow or something if I had to choose.” He eyes him, tone conveying bemusement, “I guess I’ll take ‘angel’ though if it’s coming from you,” finishing his sentence off with another toothy grin.

“Hmmmmn,” Sakusa wraps his arms around Hinata’s torso and tugs, effectively cradling Hinata against his chest. “What would I be then?” 

They stay like that for a while, enjoying the comforting sound of each other’s heartbeats. A steady melody of their love. The song is ended though as Hinata rolls off to the side. The ginger settles himself right next to Sakusa, and clasps their hands together, humming some random tune as he thinks. 

Sakusa looks up at the ceiling, waiting for the response. The brunette’s mind wanders to nothing and everything. He decides then and there that days like this aren’t so bad. Random days spent in indulgence are alright in his books he supposes. As long as those days are spent with a certain small tangerine of course. 

“Hrrmmmmnnn, let’s see…..” Sakusa turns his head to look at Hinata. “I think Omi-san would be a cat!” declares the youngest, a fiery gaze turning to meet a midnight hue.

_________

Sakusa blinks once, twice, a third time for good measure, “A….cat?” 

“Yes, a cat!” chirps the sunshine man. Sakusa eyes his partner dubiously, “Why….a cat?” Hinata takes a second, mouth opening and closing; words are forming, but they don’t feel right. “Well...you see it’s—you—ahh, it’s….your personality…..” His words die out as he struggles to explain.

“My….personality?” Sakusa says slowly, enunciating every syllable. Hinata scratches at his head, “You’re just…..very….cat-like.”

Sakusa stares; his brain trying to connect himself to a cat. Cats are kind of like dicks, and he’s not a dick, right? He replays all the videos he’s seen of various cats knocking over precious items just for the sake of it. He thinks of having to clean up the mess and the emotional damages caused and inwardly scowls. He’d rather not have to deal with scoldings and mess-making. 

Not to mention, cats lick themselves clean. He mentally shudders, all the germs on his body now on his tongue; in his mouth. And the dead rodents. He almost hurls at the thought. There are better chances of him complimenting Atsumu than ever carrying a dead rodent in his mouth no less. No. Way. In. Hell. 

If he’s being honest, both sound equally unpleasant. He’d rather not deal with dead rodents or compliment a piss sta—Atsumu.

No doubt about it, he would fail as a cat, and maybe a friend for certain people. Either way, Sakusa and cats don’t equal. There’s just no way.

He draws a blank and concedes, “How.” 

Hinata taps his chin; it’s mainly for show though since he can clearly see how Sakusa resembles a cat. “Well you’re both pretty misunderstood. A lot of people probably think the wrong things at first glance. You’re—you’re very…....unapproachable. Kinda like an alleycat.”

“So I’m a mangey, dirt riddled cat?” Sakusa deadpans. “I feel so loved. So appreciated. So—“

“Omi-san, you’re getting it wrong. Alleycats aren’t that bad,” pouts Hinata. “But they can seem scary to a lot of people, and well, you tend to give of scary vibes.”

“Scary vibes?”

“I know you can get emotionally constipated sometimes—most of the time really; in like a cute way though—but even you have to realize how scary you can come off, especially in crowds,” states the younger, very bluntly. 

“Yes, but that’s because people besides you are disgusting,” defends Sakusa. He crosses his arms, “I’d rather not have to deal with them.”

“You say that yet you deal with the team, _a lot_. Some might even say you warmed up to them like a cat does to people.” 

“I do not.”

Hinata gives him a pointed look, “Just accept that you’re a tsundere.”

Sakusa’s mouth opens, “I—,” he closes it and sits there in silence. He mulls over all his relationships, the bonds he’s managed to form with a piss stain, an overgrown baby, and a team of chaotic grown men who could make billions if they had a reality tv show.

He thinks of all the media posts of once hostile cats now being gentle fluff balls. Images of narrative video that all end in furry cuddling flash through his mind.

Then he thinks of how distant he used to be to people. How he would always hold them at a distance. The infamous picture of him standing in a corner with a glare and vicious aura that screams ‘leave me the fuck alone’ to the crowd around him comes to mind. Maybe he was a tad hostile. 

His college days play out in the same manner until he reaches memories of spontaneous team dinners and random friend gatherings that he _willingly_ attended. He thinks of all the high fives and side hugs he given and received during matches; he doesn’t cringe in disgust when he thinks of the contact anymore. The more he thinks about it.

Maybe he is like a cat after all.

An idea pops into his head. An extremely dumb, childish, and completely out of character idea.

The brunette sighs through his nose and makes his decision. He's already come this far hasn't he?

“Fuck it.”

“Huh?”

Hinata gets his answer as the taller, supposedly more serious two, raises his legs and wiggles his feet. The ear flaps on his socks wiggle adorably and Hinata swears he feels Cupid’s arrow pierce his heart. 

Sakusa raises his hands, fingers curled in, and his wrists go slack so they resemble paws. He turns his body slightly towards the other and his face gains a small pout. He opens his mouth, “Nya~ Nya~,” he kicks his feet gently once more for good measure, ensuring his stunt’s effect is maximized on its poor victim. 

The not-so-serious-as-we-thought man hears sputtering from the other and maybe he looks completely stupid but he doesn’t care. People _are_ always telling him to “Let loose” or in the words of a blond shit, “Go apeshit”, whatever that means. 

He spares a glance and huffs a small laugh at Hinata’s expression, reveling in the look that’s a mixture of disbelief and adoration. He doesn’t blame him, he can hardly believe he’s doing this himself. Hinata did always have a way of bringing out new sides that Sakusa didn’t even know he had. 

Sakusa gazes right at Hinata, giving him a soft smile. He doesn’t feel ashamed or embarrassed. He feels comfortable, safe, _loved._ Here, with this orange-haired idiot, _his_ orange-haired idiot of an angel, he feels like he can do things like this and have no worries. “Nya~ Nya~, A-nya~ta o aishiteru,” he gently grabs Hinata's face as he whispers his silly little love confession. 

Hinata cracks a small smile, slowly it grows, occasional giggles escape him. Then, he’s chuckling, “O-Omi-san! Pffffft wha-what was that?” 

Sakusa’s not really sure how to answer that, it _was_ a bit impulsive on his part. And he does realize that it was kind of dumb and cheesy. But Hinata doesn’t need to know that. 

“Do I need a reason to profess my love to you in completely dorky ways?” Hinata looks at him, unconditional love written across his face. “Hmmmm— _giggle_ —, I suppose not,” his tone just a little bit mirthful. 

Sakusa flicks the redhead on the forehead, ignoring the squawk of protest, “What do you mean ‘ _giggle_ —I suppose not’? You were the one creating a whole list that basically translates to I love every little thing about you’!” 

Hinata pouts at this, “But it’s normal for me to be randomly affectionate! It’s my trademark! Yours is more ‘grrrrr don’t fuck with me. Germs, disgusting’.”

“So you are aware of your personality and its effe—,” Sakusa pauses, “Was that a jab at my personality?”

Hinata stares right into Sakusa’s eyes, the playful tint found in liquid amber eyes is replaced by a gentle seriousness. 

“Omi-san, I love you with all my being but you are the very definition of a resting bitch face with a hint of Mr. Clean,” he finishes with an affirming nod. The brunette can only stare in shock, lips slightly parted and eyes wide open. There’s a moment of silence where neither of them says anything. 

Hinata fiddles with the edge of his shirt, thinking he accidentally offended his boyfriend...again. It’s not his fault his filter is completely broken and probably never existed to begin with. People should know that he—

Sakusa huffs out a small laugh, cutting off Hinata's train of thought. A tiny smile graces his face, “I suppose so. If I’m the definition of a resting bitch face then you, my dear, perfectly represent a small ball of energy in the form of a chipmunk stuffing its cheeks. And Mr. Clean is a fucking icon.” 

The ball of energy blinks, “If you say—wait a second, did you really have to add my height in there?” Only a little annoyed by the emphasis on his small stature. 

Sakusa laughs softly and acts like he’s thinking hard, “Hmmmm, yes. You aren’t Sho if you aren't tiny.”

Hinata aims a heatless glare at the other, “This doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten your attachment to Mr. Clean, you damned tree.” Each word is followed by a light punch; it’s more of a gentle pat. By the last one, he’s laughing, “Omi-san— _wheeze_ —we’re so dumb. Mr. Clean, roombas, cat boys— _wheeze_ —it’s so dumb!” He sighs amidst his laughing, “But, that’s alright cause we can be dumb dorks in love.”

Sakusa grins, “We were always dorks in love, my dear angel,” his arms find his way around the ginger’s small waist once again, and he drags him back onto his stomach. 

Hinata starts to laugh again, drunk on sunshine afternoons, silly affections, and loving partners in knee-high cat socks. From their current positions, Sakusa can feel the light vibrations from the other’s chest. A sound of whimsical music as its accompaniment.

He lets out a throaty laugh. It’s a sound of gentle love. He laughs freely and joins in on the bright sound of what can be heard as sunshine, as warmth, as lazy days spent in bed, as an afternoon spent drinking soothing tea. All coming from an angel found on Earth. He closes his eyes and tightens his grip on the other. 

“Oof Omi-san, you’re gonna squish me!”, Hinata pouts as his face gets squished into the taller’s chest. Sakusa ignores his boyfriend’s complaints and buries his face into his angel's hair, inhaling the scent of citrus and sea salt, of _home_. The brunette sighs, snuggling his lover impossibly closer. 

_Ahhh, I want this moment to last forever. Never leave me Sho._ “Of course I won’t!” _Oh, I guess I said that out loud._ “I’ll stay by your side no matter what! Until I die and even then I will wait for you in the afterlife because I love you Sakusa Kiyoomi!” Sakusa blushes freely, his tinted face safe from Hinata’s view thanks to his aggressive—passionate—hugging. He replies, mumbling his response into the fluffy orange hair, “I love you too Sho, to hell and back. Even when my heart stops beating. I’ll love you, always. Just make sure you stay.” 

“Of course Omi-san! I promise. I’m not going anywhere!”

.

.

.

.

.

.

But of course, nothing gold can stay. Silver can tarnish, and there will come a time when the sun won’t rise again. 

As the brightest of stars fade, left to never shine again, an angel falls from the heavens and gets a taste of mortality.

____________

  
  


One day it’s a small cough. A tiny bump in the road. 

“It’s okay Omi-san! It’s just a little cough. No need to worry!”

A minor treatment here, some medication there, and the road is smooth once again.

.

.

.

Months go by and the couple lives happily, blissfully. 

They say that good things come to those who wait, but never mention how bad things can fester just as easily. 

No one ever mentions how time keeps going forwards, leaving many behind to lose themselves to their nightmares. 

.

.

.

  
  


Not so suddenly, the cough is back. It’s worse, accompanied by pale, reddish skin covered in bumps and rashes. Days are filled with dry hacking and harsh wheezing. 

Breathing becomes harder and harder. One by one the freedom of the sun’s path is restricted. 

Volleyball is the first to go. Soaring above the clouds is harder when breathing is almost impossible. The top of the summit is not meant for those who get winded by a flight of stairs.

Then it’s cooking. Trembling and shaky grips are not the makings of a chef.

Soon, going outside is off limits. Too many dangers. Too many possibilities. Once harmless flus and bacteria become deadly. 

The sun has never looked duller.

.

.

.

“I— _khak_ —I m-might be s-sick, Omi-san”

A pause. Filled with raspy breathing. “I might be— _khak_ —sick but I—,” he stops abruptly, his body being rattled by uncontrollable coughing. The other can do nothing but try to bring some comfort. He stands by helpless and useless with only futile attempts to soothe as his offering. His heart chips and crumbles with each painful sounding hack.

Soon the coughing settles and the smaller man strengthens his resolve. “I-I won’t leave! No matter what, I’m not leaving you Omi-san! I’m going to get better. I’ll be able to walk freely and play volleyball again and cook. The first thing we’ll do is go on a picnic when the cherry blossoms bloom! Then—then we can go back home and cuddle together, wearing cute cat socks and PJs! We’ll finally buy a roomba! We’ll make it to forever, I promise!”

He voices his wishes, hoping for them to come true. If only he knew that saying a wish out loud ensures the possibility of them never happening. 

.

.

.

Promises made are promises meant to keep, yet not everything can stay and some things must leave. And this one, this one specific promise, slips through fingers like sand flowing through the cracks found in between a desperate grip.

The sun is setting and the flowers are rotting. The angel has fallen; rock-bottom an all too real impossibility. 

.

.

.

Wings once strong and grand, collapse and shed. The comfort is corrupted; a song once harmonious now filled with discordance. A murky ocean, waters like shadows, comes into view. It seems welcoming, waves like open arms. “ _Come to me. Let me hold you. I can fix everything once and for all_ ,” it whispers. 

The angel looks on. The wind tears into his skin; the chill reaches deep into his very being. If he tried, he could hear a faint voice, a familiar sound. The voice would bring him warmth, a feeling of home. 

From this voice, he would hear kind, loving words. Words of promises and futures. Plans to find a forever in a world where eternity exists as nothing but a fickle dream. 

Too easily, the voice is blocked, overpowered. The winds rage against the voice; they cradle him, tell him to embrace the cold waters. The angel looks onwards. A seemingly gentle lullaby of calm, lapping waves enters his ears. The lullaby sings, “ _I am warm. I am love. You won’t feel the cold. The water is welcoming to all. Come, join me._ ” 

The angel falls. His wings have faded into feathery wisps, and all that is left is a hollow skeleton of his glory. He looks on, a loving voice forgotten, carried away by the wind. Amidst his fall, he opens his arms as if embracing a lover, and the ocean welcomes him back. 

The lullaby soon changes into a dirge of howling winds and echoing waves.

.

.

.

Elsewhere, a raging fire of passion and life collapses, held in a tight embrace by a steady pillar of home and love amidst flashes of red and blue.

____________

When tragedy strikes, the world is cruel and devoid of empathy. Life moves on but for a chosen few. A still-shot encased in a lovely little snowglobe. The globe is rocked and the snow falls gently.

For them, time no longer moves the same and life feels colder buried under the enchanting snow. 

.

.

.

Falling snow turns to pristine white. Or titanium white if one were an artist viewing an intricate masterpiece. 

Beautiful things are displayed but not in a way that one would think. Things aren’t as they seem and this gallery isn’t one of admiration.

Sakusa looks around, the color almost reminds him of pure snow, of bright sunshine. _Almost_. Now, right at this very moment, the color makes him gag. It makes him sick, horrified, _scared_. He inhales, inhales what should be a comforting scent. The smell of disinfectant, rubbing alcohol, cleaning products, things he enjoys, a smell that reminds him of who he is. But not now, not here. It's anything but relaxing, reassuring. It’s terrifying, nauseating, _suffocating_. It's clean, yes, but it’s _too_ clean here. Too quiet, too still, too blank.

There’s nothing to be seen or heard in this suffocating, nauseating, hellish room. It’s like a bare contemporary piece telling its viewers to find their own meaning. The viewers are only given two colors to find some philosophical meaning in; a bright fluffy orange lying stagnant and a curly black engulfed by fluorescent white. 

One represents happiness, sunshine, determination, and enthusiasm. It is the sight of warmth and compassion. Known to make one hungrier, it fuels freedom and fascination. A color of fallen leaves and citrus fruits. Add too much and become consumed with arrogance. Take it away, and loneliness becomes a stark contrast. 

The other is a sign of elegance, strength, authority, and power. An evoker of strong emotion, too much, and become overwhelmed by what is felt. A fine line is walked when this color is used. On one end is the meaning of possibilities, of second chances, and new hopes. One wrong turn and you reach final endings, suffocating emptiness and certain death. It is a color shrouded with mystery, with the unknown. Without this color, depth and hue are lost to all. It is an absence that brings out hidden qualities once overlooked. 

A steady _beep, beep, beep_ of a monitor, an occasional hissfrom a ventilator as it pumps air, and the thought of colors disappears. The black-haired man inhales, his mask doing nothing to stop the smell that haunts his dreams. His head is filled with purposeful nonsense. Colors, sights, smells, emotions. Everything and anything. He lets out a subtle sigh, or maybe it was a small sob.

“Hey….hey Sho. Do you—do you remember the day you taught me foot sliding ?” His voice wobbles as he tries to swallow the lump forming in his throat. His eyes start to sting, he takes a shuddering breath and smiles, it’s bittersweet. “I….I wore those cat socks you told me you loved so much a-and we had...so...much— _sob_ —fun. I— _sob_ —e-even— _hic_ —r-ran into a— _sob_ —wall, and we— _hic_ —we almost face planted— _sob_ —onto the floor. He chuckles sadly at that, feeling too distraught to experience any happy emotions tied to that random moment. “We— _hic_ —were going to get a— _sob_ —roomba.” All the tiny details of that domestic day come rushing back to him. “I-I even— _sob_ —wanted to— _hic_ —name it.” His breathing gets harsher with each second. It’s getting harder to breathe. To feel. “Hah, at— _sob—_ the end— _hic—_ I told you— _sob_ —told you to never leave me— _hic_ —remember?” 

  
  


His mask is off now, mouth stretched into a smile that can only be described as anguish. Tears are flowing freely from his eyes, dripping onto his shirt, onto the stupid, stupid, _clean_ fucking floor. “Hah— _sob_ —you said you wouldn’t— _hic_ —leave me, Sho. You—you even— _sob_ —p-promised— _hic_!” 

He moves, for the first time in what feels like ages, and makes his way to the single bed. _Too clean, why is it so fucking clean!_

.

.

.

  
Orange starts to dull and black bleeds through, pooling around his feet.

  
.

.

.

He looks at the only other person in the room. His eyes roam their body. Once strong arms look frail and skinny. Once glowing, healthy skin looks dull and deathly pale, the smoothness of it being interrupted by the protruding tubes and needles.

The once adorable, passionate, always _always_ smiling face is sitting still. Unmoving, jaw held open by that damn breathing tube. He grabs the small, oh so small hand of the other, of his best friend, his partner, his other half, and breaks down once again. 

He collapses to the floor, ignoring how his knees scream, how his back starts to protest at his hunched position and brings his forehead to the frail hand he holds so preciously like it’s made of gold. He brings his lips to a single, silver band, kissing it with so much love and gentleness. 

Flashes of a happier day come to mind. An uneven inhale and he weeps once more.

“S-Sho...Sho….Shouyou, my dear, my s-sweetie— _sob_ —m-my— _hic_ —s-sunshine, my— _gasp—_ star. My e-every— _sob_ —thing. Y-you know I— _sob_ —I was joking— _hic_ —w-when I-I said you _—gasp_ —wh-when I— _hic—_ said you were— _sob_ —an angel right?” The devastated, broken man raises his head, looking at the oh so still face, gaze watery and imploring.

The tears still fall, fall onto the bedsheets, onto the delicate hand and he breaks all over again, willing those eyes to just, for even one millisecond, open. He begs, he pleads to the gods, the spirits, the Buddhas, everyone, _anyone_ , to see those beautiful brown eyes. To see his love, his life, his everything, awake. To see that beautiful smile. To hear that laugh, so full, so _alive_ . “Y-you’re not an angel S-Sho! _Sob_ —You’re n-not— _hic_ —an a-angel. You’re— _gasp_ —human! Y-you— _hic_ —don’t have t-to— _gasp_ —l-leave— _sob_ —to t-the— _hic_ —afterlife!” 

He raises his head, free hand clawing at his throat. Trying pathetically to keep his sobs from coming out. He can’t bear the pain he feels. The implications of what’s to come. “Y-you’re— _sob_ —human! You’re place— _sob_ —is h-here _—hic_ —with me!”

His voice cracks, and he feels like he’s drowning. “God— _sob_ —damnit Shouyou!”

He grips his shirt with his free hand. The tight pain he feels in his chest never leaves. “Y-you— _sob_ —d-don’t— _gasp_ —have— _hic_ —t-to leave— _gasp_ —me!” 

.

.

.

In his mind’s eye, he is reaching desperately for the sun’s orange light. The shadows claw at his feet while his fingertips brush against the sunset. The shadows crawl up, tightening their hold, and he struggles to move. He stumbles as he grapples for the sun. A misstep and he loses his hold. The light barely grazes his fingertips as it disappears, leaving him to be devoured by inky blackness.

.

.

.

.

There’s a beat of silence as his words ring throughout the small area. The moment ends and he continues to cry, harsh breathing and painful weeps permeate every single space. 

Eventually, his sobbing quiets down until it’s just subtle whimpers. His breathing slows down, still uneven, but not as jagged. He lays his head against the other’s chest, positions switched from that one, random, normal, insignificant, meaningful day. 

He gently presses his face into the ginger’s bony exterior, hearing the slow _thump ba-thump_ of a heart struggling to beat. He closes his eyes, inhaling the faint scent of citrus and sea salt. _Please let this pass, let this moment move on to a better one. Let me keep him. Let me have my forever._ A single tear falls out. Softly, almost inaudible, he whispers, “Don’t leave me Sho. Stay…..please….I beg of you…...stay….”

  
  
  


_Thump ba-thump, beep_

  
  


_Thump ba-thump, beep_

  
  


_Thump ba-thump, beep…_

_Thump...._

  
  


_Ba-thump, beep......_

  
  


_Thump.........._

  
  


_Ba-thump, beep..........._

  
  


_Thump..............._

  
  


_Ba……...thump………………_

  
  


_I guess I’m a promise breaking angel, after all, Omi-san_

.

.

.

Somewhere, away from whispering seas, away from haunting snow globes, and pristine rooms, a red giant burns. 

It burns bright, burns eternally, but never immortally.

______________

  
  


The tears for the dead fall and shimmer like liquid gold. Those who grieve weep and create a twisted beauty for all to see. 

They are blinded by what they feel. 

The stunning tears fall and the world gets blurred as what they hold dear fades into nothing.

.

.

.

The day is dark and grim. The world is filled with gray skies and hollow winds. A crowd of black parts for a tall man with curly hair and a white mask. _It’s fitting_ he thinks _today we bury our own sun. Now there’s not a speck of sunshine in sight_ , _no warmth to be felt_. He feels the cold metal biting into his skin, one from the ring on his finger and the other from the identical silver ring held close to his heart by a chain. He makes no move to take them off, would rather get frostbite than have to ever part with them. 

  
  


The man approaches the open casket. He gazes at the one who lays inside it. His eyes roam across the small figure and note the lack of color and the lack of life. He doesn’t cry, he can’t, he feels empty. His tears have dried and all that is left is an empty wasteland of pain and sorrow. The beauty he once sought is now gone.

He reaches for his coat pocket and pulls out a piece of paper. He leans forward and places one kiss on the cold forehead, gently caressing the now dull ginger curls. Before he moves away he places the paper in the hands of his only love and places a slow kiss on the now blue lips. He straightens his posture and moves away, preparing for his love, his everything to be buried six feet underground. His heart breaks again as he remembers what he wrote, a eulogy for the sun, for all things good, for an angel. 

Finding a secluded area, hidden by the numerous trees, he settles down on the cold, hard-packed dirt, not caring about the numerous germs festering. He can’t bring himself to care, hasn’t been able to. He thinks back. He laughs a little, he’s always thinking back now. He thinks of what he wrote. Everything he had to say and couldn’t say. 

He raises his pointer finger, “One: I love how you smiled. It always felt like I was in the presence of pure sunshine, of the sun itself.” He looks upward, throwing his head back against the bark of a tree. “One smile from you and I felt all my trouble melt away. I could let go of what was bothering me and not feel a single worry.” Raising his middle finger, he continues, “Two: I adore the way you would always wear my shirts, you would look so comfy and huggable. If I could, I would demand several hours of cuddling, morning, noon, and night. To say I regret all the times I denied your hugs is an understatement. I’m an idiot for taking every single touch for granted.” 

A chilling breeze sweeps through the trees and he shivers. It reminds him of the warmth he misses so dearly. “Nights are colder without you now you know? I pile on blankets and have tried several heaters and warmers, but they don’t feel the same. The warmth from a cup of hot coffee or a relaxing shower can’t compare to the warmth of you in my arms. I miss it, I miss my—my cuddle buddy. I—I miss you,” His voice cracks; a small crack in his glass facade appears; a similar break mirroring on his heart. 

He gives himself a second. He takes in a shuddering breath, preparing himself, and lifts his ring finger. A mournful gaze finds its way to the silver band adorning it. “Three: I’m proud of your kindness. You would always greet someone, stranger or friend, with so much enthusiasm and genuinity. You bring even the most recluse of people out of their shells and make them feel appreciated and understood.” 

He huffs out a short, hollow laugh, “I should know I guess, I was one of those people and look— _sniff_ —look where we are now. We almost made it to forever.” 

He takes in a shaky breath and exhales, “It’s no wonder more than half the volleyball league had a crush on you.” 

His eyes start to sting as he lifts his pinky finger, “Four: I— _sob_ —I cherish every time you would sing to me in Portuguese, English, and Spanish. I could never understand the lyrics, but I knew I was the— _sob_ —only one who got to hear them from you. You let me be the only one to hear your voice croon with every ‘Deixa eu dizer que te amo’”. Only I got to see your smile as you sang ‘É mais esperava’”. I got to hear— _sob_ —your laugh as I stumbled over the pronunciations.” _Did you know I learned them just for you? To hear you laugh and join in even when I butchered the words?_

He looks up wistfully towards the canopy sky. “I would— _sob_ —make a fool of myself a million times over to hear— _sob_ —your laugh. Even if it was as short lived like a shooting star.”

His hand starts to shake, “Every moment— _sob_ —every single one, made me fall— _sob_ —in love impossibly— _sob_ —more.” 

He covers his face with his free hand, futility trying to keep himself from falling apart. His eyes search frantically. Heart still set on seeing someone that can no longer walk the earth. 

Inhale, pause, exhale. In and out, he breathes over and over. Some part of him wishes this was all one twisted dream. He wishes for the reassurance that he’ll wake up and he’ll still feel the warmth of another body. Still smell the scent of citrus and sea salt. Still see a head of fluffy orange. Still….still have _him_. But, this isn’t a dream. The world isn’t so kind and he is anything but delusional. This is a funeral. And this….this is his goodbye. 

He raises his thumb to represent five, the number of love, of marriage. His other hand finds its way to the chain held close to a beating heart. 

“Five— _sniff_ —I might’ve been your light, but you were also mine. If you were the sun, then I’m the moon. You—you helped me shine. You were the center of my universe.” He fiddles with the cold band, thumb brushing against the inscription found inside. “The moon is so cold with you gone. It’s nothing but shadows and reflected light. It feels hollow without the sun’s warmth.” 

His eyes find the words carved into the precious metal, words he’s carved into his soul. _‘Forever is a place found next to you’_. 

He cracks a small, sorrowful smile, eyes crinkling slightly at the corners, “Do you…….do you think I can make it to forever now, Sho?” The crack splinters and grows. _Do you think I can still shine as brightly as I did before?_

His eyes flutter shut, trying to ease the burning he feels from unfallen tears. His ears pick up on someone giving their own eulogy. 

_Another person that wanted to love a sun destined to die, a star fated to dull, an angel made to fall. An Icarus wanting for more than what could be given; greedy to feel its warmth. We are but mere mortals wishing for a taste of what was never ours to begin with. How utterly foolish of us._

.

.

.

.

With none to witness, a heart breaks, the glass facade breaking along with it, once and for all; it sounds deafening to those who can listen closely enough. Shattering impossibly into a million pieces. Scattered in the wind by words of sorrow and grief, never to be made whole. 

There’s a pause as if nature itself were to mourn the loss. It goes quickly as it comes with no one to notice but one already impossibly broken man, stuck in a time not so long ago.

Soon, the gold light fades over the horizon as the sun sets, stealing away any warmth. The moon glows a muted silver as the stars give her their dying breath. Colors turn monochromatic and the sounds of nature become a hazy static. 

He remembers, and the world gives way to moments of a happier time filled with love, laughter, and knee-high cat socks. 

**Author's Note:**

> In all honesty this was supposed to be just pure fluff but one sad sounding song later and well :T
> 
> Random fun fact: A lot of the qualities that the color orange represents fit Hinata really well. Not sure if that was on purpose or not but it’s something to think about, especially with how the color orange has been said to make one physically hungrier. I also added that part in the story cause why the fuck not, colors are fun 
> 
> Anyways, I really hope you enjoyed reading! Stay safe, give someone a hug(if you’re comfortable to), overthrow the rich and use their spines as the stepping stools for your success, go outside for at least five minutes and remember to eat!!
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated! Feel free to talk to me about anything really on [twitter](https://twitter.com//animegaypanic)
> 
> Till next time my lovely readers~


End file.
